


Resolutions

by ThisPolarNoise



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Post-Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22552084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPolarNoise/pseuds/ThisPolarNoise
Summary: With everything else that had been going on, it had been easy to just stick to the brief, civil exchanges in the corridors and not have the hard conversation Hunley knows they have to have eventually. Since it’s been a few weeks, things have finally started to get back to what he’s been assured by Brandt is the norm for the IMF, he has no excuse to put it off any more. He organises a meeting with Hunt for the next day, and wonders what in the hell he’s going to say.
Relationships: Alan Hunley & Ethan Hunt, Alan Hunley/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplecoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplecoffee/gifts).



When the IMF was finally reinstated after almost a month of meetings and hearings, Hunley had been relieved. The worst of the damage he had caused had been undone, and now he was there to help with fixing everything else he’d broken. The IMF was the only organisation he truly believed could even start to take on the Syndicate; they, specifically Agent Hunt and his team, were the only people who had found any concrete evidence of its existence, even, and the CIA was too big, there were always too many possibilities of leaks or moles for them to get anywhere with such threads.

He’s less relieved now, after two weeks of untangling the mess that had grown in the IMF’s absence. There were so many things, investigations and threats that the CIA either missed or didn’t think required attention until it was almost too late. A lot of the agents who refused to join the CIA are still underground, leaving the ones who are there stressed and severely overworked, himself included.

It doesn’t help that so many of them still distrust him, especially those who have worked with Hunt, which turns out to be a lot more of the organisation than he’d anticipated. Most of Hunt’s teams over the last few years have included the same people, but he’d worked with a lot of agents before that, even trained a fair number of the younger ones.

When they had been planning for that final reinstatement meeting, he and Brandt had spoken a little about how Hunt and, to a lesser extent, the rest of the IMF, felt towards him.

“Agent Hunt doesn’t hold any ill will towards me, does he, Brandt?” he’d asked.

“No, sir. Ethan isn’t the type to hold a grudge,” Brandt had replied, and Hunley had almost let himself be relieved until Brandt had continued. “But the same can’t be said for the rest of us.”

It had turned out to be accurate; Brandt wasn’t the most popular either after his cooperation with the CIA, but nowhere near as distrusted as he was. They were all professionals, of course; people didn’t join the IMF just to turn down orders or missions just because of the man giving them, they were the sort of people to see the bigger picture, the greater good. All the same, Hunley caught the looks in the hallways, the brittle politeness or occasional outright questioning of his authority. Stickell, Carter and Zhen, especially, knew exactly where their loyalties lay; none of them had been so much as heard from until Brandt brought Luther in to help find their friend.

Hunt himself isn’t like that. He’s always polite, nods or smiles at him when they see each other, even if they’re both busy. Hunley isn’t sure he deserves that… actually, he’s certain he doesn’t.

He’s been stuck on a desk since he got back after spending two weeks in the hospital in London. Including the mission that had ended just before the IMF was shut down, he’d been undercover for just over a year. His physical condition is far from at its peak after he almost died more than once in just the last few weeks and, from what Hunley can tell, his mental state is worse; he’s shakey, there are bags under his eyes like he’s hardly slept since London (not that Hunley doesn’t relate to that part). He hasn’t been approved by either the department psychiatrists nor his doctor to get back to fieldwork yet and Hunley is oddly relieved about that. He has felt protective over Hunt since almost the minute they finally met in person, both because he found out the truth about the Syndicate and, well, Ethan Hunt is hardly the unhinged rogue he thought he would be. He’s an optimist, it seems, a beacon of hope even in the most dire of situations, and he draws people to him without even seeming to realise he’s doing it. Most of all, Hunt is a good man, something almost unheard of in their line of work, but it seemed to spread to those around him, too. Hunley wonders if any of that will rub off on him or if he’s caused too much damage to be allowed any of it.

It’s more than just that, even. Some of his reasoning is far more selfish. The bravery Hunt had shown in facing him head on, letting him take credit for saving the Prime Minister instead of just letting him face the consequences… It was entirely possible there was some attraction mixed in with his guilt, just to complicate everything further.

With everything else that had been going on, it had been easy to just stick to the brief, civil exchanges in the corridors and not have the hard conversation Hunley knows they have to have eventually. Since it’s been a few weeks, things have finally started to get back to what he’s been assured by Brandt is the norm for the IMF, he has no excuse to put it off any more. He organises a meeting with Hunt for the next day, and wonders what in the hell he’s going to say.

Hunt walks into Hunley’s office at exactly the scheduled time. There’s none of the reluctance Hunley was half expecting, he just knocks on the door and limps inside when called in. His left leg, Hunley notes, an aggravation of a worse injury from a few years ago according to the debriefs. He tilts his head slightly in curiosity when Hunley looks up from his papers.

“You wanted to talk to me, sir?”

Hunley nods, takes off his reading glasses and stands up, walking around the desk so there is nothing between them but air.

“I did, yes,” he says. “How are you feeling today, Agent Hunt?”

“Better every day. Think it helps that I haven’t been sent halfway around the world again yet.” He gives a slightly wry smile, and Hunley remembers reading that he was sent out barely eight weeks after breaking his leg, probably the reason he was still limping a little now. It had put both Hunt and the mission he’d been sent out on at risk, and if Hunley ever finds out who had approved that mission, he promises to himself that they will regret it.

He clears his throat. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Not quite, sir, but getting there.”

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called this meeting?” Hunt nods, so Hunley continues. “It’s because I owe you an apology.”

Hunt tilts his head as if he doesn’t understand. “What for?”

Hunley hesitates. He knows what he wants to say, but it’s hard to find the right words, even though he’s had a long while to think about it. How did you apologise for taking half a year of a man’s life? He’s half surprised that Hunt hasn’t outright refused to accept it before he’s got the words out.

“For everything,” he says, almost helplessly. “I’m sorry I spent so much time trying to hurt you when the real threat was right under my nose.”

Hunt shrugs, can’t meet his eyes, as if he’d rather be anywhere but right here, right now. “You don’t have to apologise, Mr Secretary. This has happened before, it’s just part of the job. I’m used to it.”

Hunley can’t speak.

People didn’t say that, they didn’t say they were _used to_ being hunted down like some kind of animal. You said stuff like that when someone walked into you because they were looking at their phone, when someone knocked over a drink, not when someone had tried their damned hardest to have you _killed_.

It takes a long few seconds before he can even try to find his voice again. Instead he takes a step closer towards Ethan and, when he doesn’t move away, wraps his arms around him. After another second, he finally whispers “Good god, Ethan, I’m so sorry.”

Ethan doesn’t answer at first, leans into the embrace. When he pulls away slowly, he can’t meet Hunley’s eyes. “A lot of people would have just agreed with me, taken the rebuff, Sir.”

He shakes his head. “Then a lot of people are wrong. You shouldn’t have to be _used to this_ , Agent Hunt.”

“Thank you,” Ethan says softly, and his voice is slightly choked.

“I don’t want you to thank me. I don’t even want you to accept the apology; I need to work for that forgiveness.”

“From all the evidence in front of you, it looked like I was a dangerous rogue element. The manhunt might have been a little over the top, but…” Ethan smiles slightly and shakes his head. “You did what you thought was right with the information you had at the time. I understand that, Sir.” Ethan moves closer to him again, rests a hand on his arm. “Do you want to start this over? Not pretend like none of it ever happened exactly, just draw a line in the sand?”

Hunley hesitates, then nods. He knows he doesn’t deserve that but “I’d like that very much.”

Ethan extends his hand and smiles. “Ethan Hunt, senior field agent.”

Hunley can’t help but return the smile, although a little sheepishly. “Alan Hunley, new Secretary of the IMF. As long as we’re starting again… Do you want to go get a coffee some time?”

Ethan’s face breaks into the biggest grin Hunley has ever seen him with. “I’d like that very much, Sir.”


End file.
